


A Beautiful Day to Die

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: A Lot of Death, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Happy Death Day, Casual Sex, Edward dies many times, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Time Loop, a lot of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: Edward Nygma had died a nobody. A scared little boy from a broken family, dead on a sidewalk before ever really doing anything with his life. His potential was wasted, his brilliance faded away. He was gone. He was dead.And then, he woke up.





	1. Death Is Nothing, but to Live Defeated and Inglorious Is to Die Daily.

**Author's Note:**

> I told y'all I was working on something bigger. This was inspired by Happy Death Day, but I don't think there are any spoilers since it's a very loose adaptation. You don't need to see the movie to read this, or even watch the trailer. Comments and kudos are appreciated! This isn't much like what I usually write, so I'd like to know what you guys think c:
> 
> I do want to note: Edward will be a bit more superficial in this fic than he usually is in what I write since he's younger. He will judge people very harshly at the beginnings of this fic. Try to bear with him, and remember that not everything he thinks and says reflects my views as an author. I don't want anyone to think I'm trying to villainize a dynamic character just because Edward doesn't like them. He's petty as fuck.
> 
> This chapters title is from a quote by Napoleon Bonapart.

When Edward woke up, it was with a horrible headache and in a room he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t remember much of the night before, other than accompanying his roommates to a party. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how he’d gotten from point A to point B, but he was a bit surprised with himself. He didn’t usually get to the point where he was blackout drunk and would go home with anyone. He especially didn’t usually get to a point where he would enter such a disaster of a dorm room and not immediately run in the other direction.

Slowly, mindful of his churning stomach and pounding skull, Edward sat up in the unfamiliar bed and took in his surroundings. It was like someone had demolished a library. There were piles of books, so many that the only bits of observable floor seemed to just be a pathway from the door to the desk to the bed. The desk and foot of the bed were similarly piled high with books and papers. Edward snatched one that was down by his feet. Biochemistry. Not something offered on this campus. Whoever’s room this was, they were smart, and sought out knowledge beyond what their classes required.

That made them interesting to Edward. The room was almost a deal breaker, but if they were attractive enough…

They were not. The figure hunched over the desk was a man of ridiculous proportions. His legs were so long they could barely fold themselves beneath the desk. His arms were spindly and angled awkwardly as he wrote. He was scrawny as if he never ate, and pale as though he never saw the sun. He had dark circles beneath his eyes as if he never slept, and his hair could honestly house a few crows and Edward would not be surprised. It was also streaked with a clearly premature grey, despite the man not seeming to be much older than Edward was. The man looked up, caught him staring, and Edward had to admit that his eyes were something special. Despite the bags and dark circles beneath them, the iris’ were a frosty blue-grey. They were piercing. Analytical. They could pin him in place, if he weren’t so keen on getting his pants on.

“Something on your mind?” The stranger drawled in a low voice, soft in volume but not in tone. Edward pulled his pants on quickly, then searched around for his jacket.

“Oh, nothing.” He responded without looking at the man again, finding his things nestled against a particularly large pile of books. “Just realizing exactly how wrecked I must have been.” The look over he gave the man made the dig against him clear, but the man seemed utterly unfazed.

“You were impressively inebriated, yes.” The man went back to his writing, and Edward nearly got hit in the face as the door opened just as he went to make his exit.

“I’m home!” A woman announced enthusiastically as she struck a pose in the doorway. She froze when she saw Edward, clamped her hands over her mouth with a gasp, and for a dreadful moment Edward was sure he was about to get dragged for being a homewrecker. Then she squealed and hurried past him towards the man hunched at the desk. “I didn’t know you had someone over! Oh Jonny, did you finally get some?!”

The man started to reply, but Edward didn’t really care enough to hear it. He wasn’t usually into casual hookups, and on the rare occasion he did it was always when he was completely sober. He wasn’t too keen on sticking around to hear the boasts of some guy who took advantage of him while he was drunk. So he left. He stuck out among the rest of the student body, but there was nothing unusual about that. He didn’t dress like he was on a college campus. He didn’t dress like he was going to class. He always dressed like he had someone to impress, simply because he was impressive. The effect was lessened with the rumpled state of his clothing and the mess that his hair was without product, but even under those conditions, he still looked better than the majority of the student body.

Walking back to his own building, he paid only cursory attention to the campus life around him. A young man with his face buried in his phone walked directly into someone holding a coffee, causing both items to fall to the ground. The phone shattered on the walkway, and the spilled coffee ran into the circuits. Edward didn’t even bother to stifle a laugh as the two people cried out in united dismay. His laughter was cut short, however, when something hit him right in the forehead. He stumbled, hand flying to the site of the impact. He scowled down at the offending item, a frisbee, and then looked up at the young woman running to collect it. In a fit of petty spite, he brought the heel of his expensive shoes down hard on the center of the frisbee, which broke with a satisfying crack. He whirled around and stormed off, not even acknowledging the woman’s outraged insults.

Someone ran past him in a rush to get to class, stumbling on a crack in the walkway and pitching forward, all of her books and papers scattering everywhere. In a foul mood from the frisbie, Edward simply scoffed at her plight and stalked past her as she scrambled to collect her things. His building was in sight. Edward made a beeline for the door, hurrying up the stairs of the student housing. He didn’t much like elevators. Too slow, and the way they jolted to a stop at each floor made him nervous. He was just fishing out the key to his dorm when the door opened, revealing two women grinning widely at him.

“Well, look who it is,” Deidre began.

“Did you have fun last night?” Nina finished, and they both reached out simultaneously to pull him into the room.

“I don’t remember, unfortunately.” Edward lamented, putting his things down on his bed. “Did you see who I went home with?”

“You said you were going home with some guy and not to wait up.” Nina supplied.

“We were too far gone to question it. We were… a little worried, when you still weren’t back this morning.” Deidre admitted. Edward just scoffed at them, shoving the books for his first class into his bag. “We’re glad you’re alright!”

“You should be careful, though.” Nina stopped him as he headed for the door. “We heard someone’s been looking for you.”

“Who? Selina?”

“We wouldn’t be warning you if it was Selina.” Deidre pointed out, and as usual it only took Edward a moment to put two and two together.

“Jesus- Harvey? Again?” The poor man sounded absolutely exasperated, leaning hard against the doorframe. “Why the hell is he looking for me this time?” That only earned him a synchronized shrug.

“Dunno.” They said at the same time. “Ask him yourself.”

“You know I hate it when you two do that.” He scowled as he finally left the room.

“That’s why we do it!” They called after him in unison.

It was going to be a long day.

\------

He didn’t know why he bothered going to class. It was the same every day. He’d get there, sit in for half an hour, confirm he knew everything that was about to be covered and then he’d leave. He felt no obligation to waste his time listening to someone dumber than him talk about things he knew more about than they did. He could be spending that time actually learning something, or doing freelance work. God knows he could never get enough of that, considering tuition costs.

He didn’t want to go back to his room. He doubted the girls were going to class that day, and as much as he liked them both, they could be more than a little overwhelming. So Edward settled down with his laptop in the school’s library, where he was least likely to be accosted by any unwanted visitors. Or so he thought. He tended to forget that law courses required a lot of papers and studying, and that meant needing access to a variety of academic texts, and that meant many visits to the school’s library. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Harvey Dent dropped a pile of books on the table where Edward sat, making the smaller man jump, startled by the loud noise. The wide-eyed look of surprise was immediately replaced by bored exasperation when he saw Harvey looming over him, trying to be intimidating.

“You’ve been ignoring me, Eddie.” He accused in a deceivingly gentle voice, as Edward turned his attention back to his work.

“To ignore you, I would have to make conscious decisions in consideration of your existence. That would be quite the feat, as your existence means nothing to me and often slips my mind. So no, Harvey. I have not been ignoring you. Put simply, you just aren’t a blip on my radar.” Edward was rather proud of his abilities to verbally spar with others, but so often he found his cutting wit being rewarded with physical retaliation. Harvey hadn’t responded violently yet, but his tone was much darker when he spoke again, and Edward knew without looking that he’d have that look in his eye.

“You have an awfully big mouth, for such a small guy.”

Harvey was a nice guy, most of the time. He liked to help people, he believed in justice, and he sincerely wanted to make a difference in the world. But it wasn’t hard to upset him, and if you pushed him far enough he would get this look about him. This glint in his eye to make anyones blood chill. He was like a whole other person at times like that, and Edward made a dangerous game of intentionally provoking people who could snap him in half. Someone had tried to explain to him once that it was called ‘self-destructive behaviour,’ but he hadn’t cared to hear it.

Quickly, Edward saved his work and closed his laptop, sliding it into its bag and standing to move past his unwanted companion. Harvey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and Edward froze immediately, tense all over.

“Get your hands off of me, Dent.” He gritted out, still not looking at him. The hand loosened to a gentler grip, but did not move.

 

“We need to talk eventually, Eddie.” His tone was gentle again, and Edward hated it. He hated when people were nice to him. It was always out of pity and was quite frankly patronizing. So he shrugged Harvey’s hand off of his shoulder with more force than was strictly necessary.

“No. We don’t.” He growled as he stalked out of the library, his day effectively ruined. Harvey didn’t try to follow him, so that was something at least.

\------

Carrying around a laptop all day was bad for his shoulders, but he couldn’t break his momentum to drop it by his room. He had to keep walking. Perpetual motion. It calmed him. Or, he claimed it did. As it was, he’d been at it for hours, and he didn’t feel any calmer.

Who did Harvey think he was? Why wouldn’t he just stop pestering him? Edward had been good enough to fuck, but not good enough to actually date. He’d made that clear. So why keep bothering him? If he wanted a lay that badly then he had other options. He was an attractive guy with a good personality and a lot of money. It didn’t matter if he actually was interested in Edward now. He’d lost his chance. He’d thoroughly insulted Edward, and there was no going back from that.

If anyone could hold a grudge, it was Edward Nygma.

It didn’t bother Edward that it was getting dark. He had his cane with him, something that earned him odd looks from other students, but something he never left home without. If anyone attacked him, they’d underestimate his ability to fight back because of his size and his leg. Besides that, he could very aptly beat them to death with it. Or he could use the pepper spray he kept on his person, or the knife he always kept in his pocket. Edward had learned from a young age that the world didn’t pull punches, and so neither could he. But he wasn’t great at punching, and so he had to work around that.

So, when he heard rustling behind him, he wasn’t worried. There was the occasional squirrel or bird wandering around campus, or students playing pranks on each other or trying to take a shortcut through bushes. He kept an ear out, in case it was an assailant, but honestly he was a little too upset to care. He didn’t take rejection well, and he would love a chance to take out his anger on somebody.

He didn’t like that thought, when it was phrased like that. It made him sound like his father.

‘Well, I need someone to take it out on, don’t I?’

Edward shuddered.

Then he was yanked back by his hair and thrown to the paved walkway. He landed hard, his laptop bag flying off of his shoulder and his cane clattering beside him. It took him a moment to gather himself and look at his assailant. They loomed over him, big, bulky, with all black clothes and a black mask to match. There was a knife in their hand. A very, very big knife. Something meant for hunting. Much bigger than the pocket knife he had. The attacker took a step towards him, and he scrambled backwards, trying to get to his feet. He almost managed it, but standing up from strange sitting positions was always hard on his knee, and the joint gave out, very nearly sending him back to the ground.

A muffled laugh sounded from under the mask, the sound filtered by the plastic in such a way that he couldn’t really pin any solid qualities to the sound of it. Edward’s hand landed clumsily on his cane, and he tried to use it to help himself stand, but as the masked assailant lifted the knife to strike, Edward realized he didn’t have that kind of time. So instead, he braced his good leg behind himself and held his cane with both hands, smashing it into his attackers gut with his whole body behind the blow. He stumbled as a result, but the attacker was doubled over, and Edward had plenty of time to push himself upright.

He should’ve run. He knew he should have run. This person was bigger than him, with the intent to kill him, and that knife was huge. But someone had the audacity to attack him, and he couldn’t let that stand. He wouldn’t be a victim again. He wasn’t one to begin with. He was a survivor, and he was going to make this jackass pay for trying to make him otherwise. He raised the cane again, looking to smash the person’s head in, when they somehow managed to surprise him. They charged him, tackling him like they were playing some sort of contact sport and pinning him to the walkway.

Why was no one around? How late had he stayed out? He realized he had no idea what time it was, and realized it didn’t matter, because he was pinned beneath someone larger than him who was raising a knife above their head to strike. He took a deep breath to scream, but the sound was choked into a wet gurgle as the knife plunged through his windpipe. He didn’t die instantly. That was the worst part. Most people think an injury like that is instant, but it wasn’t. If the man left the knife in there to staunch the significant blood flow, then he could lie there for minutes until he choked to death on his own blood. His body tried to cough as a reflex, and each jerk of his throat against the thing blocking his airway jostled the knife, dragging a wet cry of pain from him. The attacker tilted their head, watching with a sick interest.

Slowly, deliberately, they pulled the knife out. The arterial spray that erupted from the wound covered Edward’s murderer, the bright red contrasting with the dark outfit. The attacker may not have meant to, but they had just given Edward some degree of mercy. He would die faster now, his vision already turning black and his mind blurring as lack of oxygen and blood mixed in his brain.

His body was still instinctively gasping wetly for air when his heart stopped, and everything else stopped afterwards. Edward died in a pool of his own blood, pinned by an unknown figure and brutally murdered for equally unknown reasons. His bright green eyes had been known to shine with his intellect. They were like loaded guns, Harvey had told him once. If he turned them on you, you knew you were in for it. They were empty now, unseeing and pointed vacantly at the night sky. Edward Nygma had died a nobody. A scared little boy from a broken family, dead on a sidewalk before ever really doing anything with his life. His potential was wasted, his brilliance faded away. He was gone. He was dead.

And then, he woke up.


	2. As Long as We Exist, Death Is Not Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

~~When Edward woke up, it was with a horrible headache and in a room he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t remember much of the night before, other than accompanying his roommates to a party. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how he’d gotten from point A to point B, but he was a bit surprised with himself. He didn’t usually get to the point where he was blackout drunk and would go home with anyone. He especially didn’t usually get to a point where he would enter such a disaster of a dorm room and not immediately run in the other direction.~~

When Edward woke up, it was with a thick, strangled feeling in his throat as he gasped for air, and tears running down his cheeks. It took a moment for him to realize he wasn’t dead, and another for the agony he had felt to fade into a dull ache in his throat. He ran a hand over where he’d been stabbed, but found the skin unmarred. Slowly, eyes wide and whole body trembling, he sat up. Had it been a nightmare? It had seemed so real, and he’d never had one like that. He didn’t even know if it was possible to die in dreams. Didn’t people usually wake up just as they were about to die? Not after?

Slowly, his breathing began to even out, though the shaking didn’t subside. He wiped his cheeks on his sleeve, but realized as he took stock of reality that he wasn’t wearing any pants. His underwear was still on, thankfully, but he looked around for his trousers and found an absolute mess of a room around him. Books everywhere and-

And he’d been there before. In his nightmare. Had he remembered it subconsciously from last night? He looked at the desk, and met the piercing eyes of the long, pale man he’d seen in his nightmare. The man was staring at him this time, turned away from the notebook on his desk. They stared at each other for a moment, before Edward quickly got out of bed and grabbed his pants off the floor, pulling them on.

“You have some nerve.” He shot at the stranger shakily, trying to play off the moment of vulnerability with some sort of righteous anger. “I was far too drunk last night to consent to anything, you-”

“You’re right, you were impressively inebriated.” The man interrupted, his voice much quieter than Edwards but cutting through it all the same. “You were throwing yourself at _me_ of all people, and I knew if I just left you there it could get you in an unsavory situation. My roommate was out with her girlfriend, so I let you use her bed.” He spoke patiently, matter-of-factly, eyes never wavering or losing the impression that he was dissecting Edward where he stood. “Nothing happened, I assure you.”

Edward hated that he believed him. He wanted to be angry. He didn’t want to be faced with someone reasonable and patient who had done something thoughtful for him. This man had just seen him cry! He had to play that off somehow! 

“You had a nightmare.” The man continued, sitting eerily still in his seat. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“What?” Edward spat, moving back towards the door.

“It’s something I specialize in.”

“Dreams?” Ed scoffed, but the man just smiled serenely in such a way that Edward felt a chill run through him.

“Fear.” He corrected, and there was another moment of silence as Edward stared at him in disbelief.

“Right. Well, that’s incredibly creepy. _You_ are incredibly creepy, and I’m not overly interested in being a lab rat, so if you’ll excuse me-” He tried for the door, but was interrupted when it opened. The young woman from his nightmare, with blonde pigtails, entered the room with a flourish

“I’m home!” The woman announced enthusiastically as she struck a pose in the doorway. She froze when she saw Edward, clamped her hands over her mouth with a gasp, and for a dreadful moment Edward was sure he was about to get dragged for being a homewrecker. Then he felt an even deeper sense of dread when he remembered having that exact thought in his nightmare, in that exact situation. She hurried to her roommate, batting his arm playfully. “I didn’t know you had someone over! Oh Jonny, did you finally get some?!”

“No, Harleen. But I’m assuming you did.” He went back to his notebook as Harleen giggled and flopped onto her bed. They both seemed to discount Edward’s existence, much to his irritation, and so he stormed out and slammed the door behind him out of spite.

He needed to get back to his dorm. Nina and Deidre would help him shake the nightmare, then he could get some coffee and settle down in the library-

No. No library this time. He could find some shaded seat outside.

Walking back to his own building, he was caught in a panicked spiral within his own mind, and each repeated event around him simply mounted that anxiety. A young man with his face buried in his phone walked directly into someone holding a coffee, causing both items to fall to the ground. The phone shattered on the walkway, and the spilled coffee ran into the circuits. Edward couldn’t summon even a bit of amusement as the two people cried out in united dismay. He felt only dread. He was so distracted, he hardly felt it when something hit him right in the forehead. He stumbled and stared blankly at the frisbee, not understanding, and then looked up at the young woman running to collect it. He stumbled backwards as she picked it up. She asked him if he was okay, but he couldn’t answer. He turned and hurried in the other direction, ignoring the way she called after him in concern.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Someone ran past him in a rush to get to class, stumbling on a crack in the walkway and pitching forward, all of her books and papers scattering everywhere. Edward hurried past her and tried to pretend none of it was happening. His building was in sight. Edward made a beeline for the door, sprinted up the stairs and down the hallway of his building, and was out of breath by time he reached his room. He was just fumbling for the key to his dorm when the door opened, revealing two women grinning widely at him.

Their grins dropped when they saw the look on his face. They pulled him inside and shut the door, ushering him to sit down and asking him what was wrong. What had happened? Who did they have to kill? He shook his head slowly, staring at a spot on the floor but seeing nothing. Their voices faded into the background, the world narrowed and blurred at the edges. Somewhere in his mind, he was aware of what was happening, but had no control over himself or the situation. He felt arms around him but couldn’t react or process the meaning behind it. He heard concerned words. He felt tears on his cheeks.

“What do you mean, Eddie?” Nina tried for the millionth time, but this time he actually heard her.

“What?” He croaked, too tired to even try to pull away from whichever of them was embracing him.

“You said you died. What do you mean?” Deidre this time, sounding more serious than he’d heard her in a very long time.

“...I… I had a nightmare. It must have been a nightmare.” He started. “But when I woke up, everything that had happened in the dream… happened again. Everything. But at the end of the dream, I died. So if this continues-” He hiccuped, panic constricting his lungs. “I’m going to die tonight.”

“No, you’re not.” Nina said this quite firmly, as if it were her call to make.

“It was just a dream, Eddie. It upset you and your brain is drawing parallels. You’ve said yourself dreams are nothing but reflections of the subconscious. They aren’t real.”

“I know. I know that.” He took a deep, shaking breath and pulled away from them, drying his eyes. “It just felt so… real. I woke up and I could taste blood, and my throat still felt like it’d been-” He choked on the words, the tips of his fingers brushing over his throat.

“Listen, just… just stay in today, okay?” Nina suggested, and he decided he didn’t like them to look so worried, especially not about him. “We’ll grab you some coffee or tea or something. You can watch your weird documentaries and fill a notebook with a thousand digits of Pi, and everything will be okay.” She smiled a little, trying to lighten his mood, and it worked a bit. He smiled back, but shook his head.

“No, it’s… okay. I won’t go to class,” he added as they started to protest. “But I’m going to get the coffee myself. Some fresh air and a small walk could help shake it off. Then I’ll come back.” That seemed to appease them, and they backed off for the moment.

\------

There were places to get coffee in every main building on campus. He picked the one closest to his building. He’d really thought the air would help, but he just felt exposed. No one would try to kill him with so many witnesses around, he reminded himself. He’d be okay. He paid for his coffee and turned around to head back to his building. Then he screamed and jumped a mile out of his skin when he almost walked right into Harvey Dent.

“Holy shit, Ed-” Harvey put his hands on Edward’s shoulders in a seemingly automatic attempt at comfort. His hands were gentle. Edward’s heart ached. “Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.” He looked so sincerely concerned, and Edward didn’t know what to say. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and the worried expression only deepened when he failed to choke out an answer. “Here, sit down.” Harvey tried to usher him into a seat near the coffee shop, but Edward finally pulled away from him with a firm refusal.

“No.” He snapped, then took a breath. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Eddie, but you look like you’re going to keel over-”

“ _I would rather keel over and die than sit down for a second with you._ ” Finally snapping, Edward all but screamed this, and the look of hurt it provoked only made him angrier. Harvey had no right to act like the injured party. He’d started this. He’d made this bed, and he could lie in it. Alone. Quickly, he turned and walked away as fast as he could without outright running. His throat felt tight like he might cry again, and he refused to do so in front of all those people. Nina and Deidre were the closest to family he'd ever had, so that was one thing. But strangers? Harvey? No. Never.

He went straight back to his dorm, locked the door, and ignored the girls when they asked why he looked even more upset than before. As soon as he put his headphones in, they knew he was gone.

He spent his whole day lying in bed, sipping coffee and watching documentaries. Nina and Deidre came and went, and every time one of them entered the dorm Edward felt a jolt of fear. He kept thinking, for just a moment, that it was that hulking figure coming to kill him again. But that was a nightmare, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t happen again because it hadn’t happened in the first place. He wasn’t even out for a walk this time. He was at home, in a populated building. He was safe.

Edward was a notoriously heavy sleeper. He could sleep through almost anything. He’d slept through a house fire before, though it had been put out before it could be a real danger. He’d slept through a minor earthquake and through almost all his alarms. He slept through someone taking off his headphones. He slept through someone slipping his laptop off of him and onto the floor. He slept through someone kneeling over him and wrapping leather-clad gloves around his neck. He slept through them squeezing his neck in their hands.

He woke up when his lungs were burning. Confused and disoriented, he clawed at the hands around his neck instinctively, but the gloves kept him from doing any real damage. He reached up and tried to tear the mask from the face above him, to see the face of his killer before he died, but it was firmly afixed and his hands were clumsy and useless. 

It had been real. The nightmare had been real. He had died and now he was dying again, the life being squeezed out of him slowly. His vision faded in a way that was sickeningly familiar. He kicked and struggled until he physically couldn’t anymore, but it didn’t do any good. He had the life choked out of him there in his dorm room, and wouldn’t be found until later that night when Deidre and Nina came back from where ever they had gone off to.

His head lolled to the side, eyes blank and unseeing as the assailant admired a job well done.

Edward was dead. Again. Until he woke up.

Again.


	3. Death Never Takes a Wise Man by Surprise; He Is Always Ready to Go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were too many unknowns. If he had a finite amount of loops to figure it out, then he didn’t have time to go at the problem from every conceivable angle. He needed a more definite picture of what was going on, and he needed a plan on how to deal with it.

His throat ached again when he woke up this time, but it was nothing compared to the burning in his lungs. He gasped desperately for air, and heard a chair slide backwards with a harsh sound as the young man got up from his desk quickly. Seeing Edward struggling to breathe, the stranger helped him into a sitting position as he coughed and choked, until he was pulling in ragged but even breaths. Edward closed his eyes and took a moment to center himself before facing the ridiculously pretty eyes watching him carefully. They were almost nice enough to ignore the rest of his face.

Edward should have thanked him, but being gracious just wasn’t in his nature. He mumbled something about being fine, and though the man clearly didn’t believe him, he went back to his desk regardless. From what Edward had seen, he wasn't the type to deal much with people, or even to care much about them. Or, no. No, that wasn't right. If he didn't care about people at all then he wouldn't have helped Edward the night before, or just a moment ago. He cared about people. He probably just hated that he did. Regardless, Edward grabbed his pants, shaking hard, trying to turn over in his head what was happening.

It wasn’t a nightmare. He’d have to be an idiot to insist none of it was real, and he certainly wasn’t an idiot. He was dying. He’d been killed twice now and each time he woke up back at the beginning. He didn’t know how something like that was possible, but it was the reality of the situation. What was the goal? Was he doomed to keep up like this forever, or just until he succeeded in doing something? Was there a lesson he was meant to learn? Was he supposed to solve his own murder and kill his killer? What was he meant to do? He needed to look into the paranormal, magic things, and try to figure out what this was. He wasn't sure where to start, but the library seemed like a safe bet.

Edward headed out the door and past the woman named Harleen without paying much attention. Deep in thought, he tried to think of what way to hit this problem. He was a certified genius and could absolutely solve this himself, but he needed to know what direction to go in. There were too many unknowns. If he had a finite amount of loops to figure it out, then he didn’t have time to go at the problem from every conceivable angle. He needed a more definite picture of what was going on, and he needed a plan on how to deal with it.

He walked back to his dorm without paying any mind to his surroundings. He brushed off his roommates as he cleaned himself up before heading back out. Going to the library was risky. It would mean running into Harvey, but he seemed to be cursed to do that regardless. No point letting him get in the way any more than he already had. The occult section wasn’t as large as the other parts of the library, but there were some resources there for the mythology and spirituality courses. He didn’t know how reliable they were. He’d always dealt in fact and logic. He’d never bothered with the supernatural. He’d thought it was a waste of time. As such, he didn't know how to tell what was considered 'legitimate' in those circles of knowledge and what was considered foolish. Was anything considered foolish? He was stuck in a repeating time loop of his own untimely demise. He didn't have much room to judge.

Though, that had never stopped him before.

Book after book was skimmed through and tossed aside. Nothing seemed relevant to what was going on. It was all surprisingly academic, and there was nothing written with the belief that any of it could be real beyond smaller things involving candles and crystals. There was absolutely nothing that covered the manipulation of time, or the reversal of death itself. Nothing even close to that extreme. Making no progress, he was in the library for hours before Harvey found him. He didn’t even notice the figure sliding into a seat beside him at first. He was too busy being frustrated with the lack of relevant information in the texts he’d collected.

“You hate this stuff.” Harvey startled him, pulling his attention from the books. He glared for only a moment before turning his attention back to the pages.

“Don’t act like you know anything about me.” He grumbled irritably. He hated the casual tone to Harvey's voice when he replied.

“I know plenty about you.” That made Edward's lips press into a thin line before he managed to grit out a response.

“No, you don’t. You’ve lost that privilege.”

“Eddie-” Harvey started with a sigh, but Edward cut him off.

“You’ve lost _that_ privilege as well.” There was a moment of silence where Harvey bit his tongue, and Edward smirked, knowing he was getting to him. Not that it was hard, but it was always so satisfying.

“Fine. Edward. I just want to talk.” He sounded resigned. Good. Maybe he'd give up and go away.

“Well I don’t.” Edward shot back, trying to sound bored but just coming off as furious. “Unless you have some secret knowledge on all this… surreal nonsense, then there is nothing I want to say to you and even less that I want to hear from you.” He slammed another useless book shut, much harder than necessary, and slid another towards himself to open. He heard Harvey shift uncomfortably in his seat, but refused to look at him.

“...I don’t know anyone like that-” He began hesitantly.

“Then go away.” Came the instant reply.

“But,” He continued, surprisingly only mildly irritated. “I know a guy who knows a guy.” Unfortunately, that demanded Edward’s attention. Slowly, considering his options carefully, he closed the new book and sat back in his chair. Turning to face Harvey properly, he folded his hands in his lap and tried to look as unhappy about this as possible.

“Talk.”

“You know I’m friends with Bruce Wayne.” Harvey started, and Edward couldn’t help but scoff.

“The millionaire. Yes, I know. What could some spoiled rich boy know about all this? I’m not interested in talking to whatever weird palm-reading con artist babbles to him about his fortuitous future.” Edward’s tone dripped with malice. People like Bruce Wayne made him burn with jealousy. All that money and attention, and they didn’t appreciate it at all. They didn’t even deserve it. Not like he did. He was the genius. It should be him in their place. Hell, he would’ve been a lot better off if his own parents had been shot in an alleyway.

“There’s a friend of his. I’ve never met the guy personally, but Bruce thinks highly of him despite his… checkered history. He’s a bit notorious, honestly. People that hang around him tend to drop like flies, and he’s apparently an abrasive asshole-”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.” Edward said it sarcastically, but Harvey just gave him a look and gestured to himself. Edward got the point and crossed his arms, looking away with a frown. “Oh shut up. So what do you want, then?” He resented the need to play nice, though he wouldn't admit he was pouting.

“What do I want?” Harvey sounded genuinely confused. He was either a better actor or a bigger idiot than Edward had ever thought. “Nothing. I just want to help you-”

“Oh cut the crap.” Edward cut him off abruptly, looking at him just to glare, and they were lucky there were so few people in the library as Edward's voice rose. “Don’t act like you give a shit now. It’s far too late and you won’t get anything from it.”

“I-” Harvey sighed, and he was the one to look away this time. He looked dejected, and Edward felt a smug sense of satisfaction. “I always cared, Edward.” The satisfaction drained along with all the color in his face, and was replaced with an icy, acidic rage.

“Shut up.” Edward grabbed his cane and stood, but so did Harvey, the two men facing off with no one willing to intervene. It must have been quite the sight. Harvey was so much broader than Edward. He could snap Ed in half. But he was on the defensive, and Edward was on the attack.

“It’s the truth! If you’d just let me explain-”

“You had your chance to explain, and your idea of an explanation was-” Edward choked on the words for a moment, forcing himself past the heartbreak and into the simmering fury beneath, his voice shaking with barely contained rage as he quoted Harvey word for word. His memory could be such a burden. “‘I couldn’t _stand_ to actually be with you, Eddie. There can never be anything more between us, because _I want nothing more to do with you._ ”

“That was-”

“Hell, you may as well have said ‘Sorry Edward, you’re good in bed, but that’s about _all you’re good for!_ Now please, shut up about your feelings and suck my dick! That’s all I want from you! Despite leading you to believe otherwise for the better part of two years!’” Edward was yelling now, and from the corner of his eye he could see a staff member reaching for the phone, likely calling security. Well they could go ahead. He didn't give a shit. He'd be dead soon anyway, right?

“Edward, no, that-” Right. He'd be dead by morning and everything would start over. He could allow himself to snap. Which was good, because he wasn't sure he could stop himself even if he wanted to. 

“Fuck you, Dent!" Edward gestured wildly with his hands as he yelled. "Fuck you, fuck Bruce Wayne, fuck his weird sketchy friend, and fuck this stupid fucking time loop! Dealing with you once was enough, let alone _three goddamn times._ I’ve had it! I’m done! This has been a colossal waste of my _fucking_ time!" He laughed then, high-pitched and manic, totally devoid of humor. "Hell, I fucking _welcome_ this asshole to try and kill me now! I would _literally rather be stabbed to death_ than spend another _moment_ talking to you!” It was entirely possible, though he would never admit it, that Edward was a little bit hysterical. Harvey’s expression during the outburst was a rainbow of emotion. Edward would find it fascinating if he weren't so upset. During the rant, Harvey had ranged between regret, anger, sadness, concern, and was now settling somewhere between worry and fear.

“Wait, what? Someone’s trying to _kill_ you?” The larger man demanded with a sense of urgency. Edward brushed him off.

“Yeah, and doing a _shitty fucking job of it!_ ” Edward yelled into the air, hoping his killer would be around to hear. Edward pushed past him, making to exit the library. His head was buzzing with energy, ears ringing as the world narrowed to nothing more than the mess that was his emotions. He hardly heard the sound of something creaking, and when a large crash rang through the library he didn’t really process what it was until he heard people screaming and Harvey calling for him to look out.

He did, in fact, look out. Just in time to see the large library shelves knocking each other over like dominos. Just in time to realize he was standing beneath the last one.

He liked this death the least so far, he decided almost immediately. Being crushed to death took much longer than the other two had, and the pain was everywhere instead of focused on one part of his body. At least his neck was spared this time. He was coughing up blood, sure, but that wasn’t due to throat trauma. That was just because his ribs were broken and had ripped through his lungs. He wasn’t sure how exactly he died. Had he suffocated, choking on his own blood? Had his lungs simply given out? Had some other important organ been punctured? There was so much pain everywhere that he just couldn’t take proper stock of it all.

But his throat was fine.

So this time, when Edward woke up, he was able to do something he had been thus far denied.

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i thrive on kudos and comments ♥


	4. Our Dead Are Never Dead to Us, Until We Have Forgotten Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiled, small but kind, and Edward knew that he really meant it. He would love to help if he could.
> 
> Edward was more certain than ever that he absolutely despised Bruce Wayne.

Edward screamed and shot up in the stranger’s bed. Or, Harleen’s bed. Unlike when Edward had woken up gasping for air, the stranger made no movement. He simply stared impassively as his guest caught his breath and ran his hands over his face, clearly exhausted.

“Do you usually dream so intensely?” He asked in a dry, dispassionate drawl. Edward tilted his head back, eyes turned to the ceiling. He couldn’t help but laugh a little, though there was no humor in it. Then he looked back at the man with a smile just as empty as the laugh.

“Only lately.” It was a joke only he would get, shot back just as dryly. It was getting tiresome, referring to this man as ‘this man’ and ‘the stranger.’ The woman before had called him ‘Jonny,’ but it didn’t seem to fit quite right. It seemed like one of those things you only let a certain person get away with. Besides, he wanted to get this man to tell him himself. If he could get in the good graces of these two strangers then maybe they could be a useful resource in his investigation. It wouldn’t hurt to try at least. Or, it wouldn’t hurt more than anything else he’d tried so far, and this way he could better avoid Harvey.

It was worth a shot.

“I don’t remember your name.” He tried, not getting up from the bed. He didn’t feel he quite had the energy yet. He still felt sore from being crushed to death and his chest ached horribly, as if some old injury were acting up just to remind him it was there.

“I never told you. There would have been no point. You were impressively inebriated.”

“So you’ve said.” That earned him a look of confusion, but the man clearly decided it wasn’t worth asking after as he went back to his desk and notebook, while Edward just kept watching him. The mess that was his hair was kind of cute, in a dishevelled kind of way. Edward didn’t usually go for dishevelled. He also didn’t usually go for people who blatantly ignored him, but after a moment of silence he pressed on. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” The man didn’t look up as he began to write, pen scratching against the paper quickly. Pen and paper. There was a laptop shoved under Harleen’s bed, but that seemed to be the only technology around. Actually, come to think of it, the books and papers covered the whole room, not just one side. Did they belong to both of them? Did one just tolerate it for the sake of the other? A lot of the material seemed to be based around psychology. Were they working on the same degree?

“Your name.” Edward clarified. Was the man's attention span that short, or was he intentionally messing with Edward?

“Why would I? You’ll be leaving, and we will likely never see each other again.”

“We could.” Edward tried, giving his most charming smile in case the man opted to look at him. He wasn’t above flirting to get something he wanted. He learned a long time ago to use any and all weapons made available to him. The man spared him a sidelong glance, before dismissing him non-verbally and turning back to his notes.

“Nothing happened last night.” Is what he said after a long moment, much to Edward’s confusion.

“So? If anything, that just makes you more appealing.” That wasn’t even a lie. Nothing was less attractive than an idiot who didn’t understand the basic concept of consent.

“A number multiplied by zero is still zero.” The man muttered, seemingly to himself. Edward sighed and finally, slowly, moved out of bed with a wince. He grabbed his pants, pulling them on but not moving to leave. He sat on the edge of the bed, still watching the man.

“...My name is Edward.” He tried.

“I don’t care.” Came the immediate, stern response.

“Are you straight?” He guessed, because this amount of dismissal was something he’d never experienced in this sort of situation. The man laughed, a surprised sound that seemed to escape before he could stop it. It was a nice laugh, Edward thought. Maybe it was just how unexpected it was, but despite not being a pretty laugh it was somehow still a nice sound. Having provoked that sort of reaction from such a seemingly stoic man made him smile a bit more genuinely. 

“No, I’m not- No.” The man finally turned back to him, still looking amused for a moment before it drained from his face, replaced by a solemn acceptance of whatever he thought was happening. He looked weary, his exhaustion deeper than simply being tired. That impression was only intensified by the dark circles beneath his eyes and the gauntness of his face. “But I’m not an idiot either.”

“Well, clearly.” Edward gestured around them at the papers and books. The man just sighed and bowed his head, pushing up his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What I mean is…” He took a deep breath, lowering his hand and lifting eyes to fix his guest with a stern glare. “You aren’t the first to try this trick.”

“...Trick.” Ed repeated, a depressing realization dawning on his brilliant mind. Such a strange looking, closed off person must have stood out in highschool, and kids could be cruel. It didn’t take much to figure out what the man meant, what joke he thought Edward was playing on him. He was about to assure the man that it wasn’t a trick, even though… it kind of was. Not to humiliate or mock him, though. Edward just wanted to know his name. That was all. But he didn’t get the chance to say anything as that was when Harleen came in.

“I’m home!” She explained, striking her pose in the doorway. Like before, she gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth when she saw Edward. Sick of the repetition, he cut her off before she could speak.

“Excuse me, what’s his name?” He asked rather curtly, crossing his arms and his legs. It hurt his knee to hook one leg over the other like that, but he still did it for the dramatic effect it had on his presence.

“Why do you care so much?” The man demanded more irritably, and poor Harleen looked incredibly confused. 

“You didn’t tell him your name, Jonny?” She sounded so sad when she said that, like her heart was breaking for Edward. ‘Jonny’ just sighed.

“There was no reason- Look, nothing happened, Harleen. Edward was just leaving.” He shot Edward a pointed look, but Edward was focused on Harleen, who in turn was focused on Edward. She looked concerned.

He could work with that.

He summoned the best kicked puppy look that he had, pretending not to understand for a moment before letting his expression fall completely. He let his posture slump and uncrossed his legs, looking around awkwardly.

“...Oh.” He said softly as he stood. “Right. Sorry. I’ll… I’ll go. Sorry.” He continued to mumble, and just as he moved to walk past Harleen to the door, she stopped him. Just as he knew she would.

“Now hang on.” She sounded stern, frowning at her roommate. “Jonny, don't be fuckin' rude.” She scolded, and Jonny didn’t say anything. He just frowned back at her, then at Edward, then turned his back to both of them and hunched over his notes almost defensively. He was scribbling furiously. Was he even actually writing? Harleen smiled when she looked back at Edward, patting him on the arm in a gesture of support.

“Thank you, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome-”

“Aw c’mon, don’t worry about that! Jonny is just a grumpy old cat.” She waved off her roommates mood, looking utterly unbothered now. “What are you doin’ today, huh? Any plans?”

“Well…” He had decided that these two could be a resource. Time to find out how they could help. It was a shot in the dark, but he tried it anyway. “I need to find a way to meet with Bruce Wayne, but that could take a while.”

“Bruce? What you gotta see Bruce for?” Her brow furrowed as she considered Edward, as if trying to gauge his intentions.

“There’s someone I need to talk to, and the only lead I have is that he’s acquainted with Bruce Wayne.” There. That was vague and unthreatening. That should be fine. Harleen pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she considered this, before nodding with conviction and leading Edward out of the room by his arm.

“Alright, let’s go meet’im.”

“Excuse me?” Edward hadn’t expected that, but he’d kind of expected the sound of Jonny’s chair scraping against the floor.

“Bruce is a friend! He helped me outta’a bad situation a while back. Pretty sure he’s the only reason my ex is actually doin’ time.” She snickered, which he hadn’t expected. That sounded like a painful story. Jonny was following behind them, a silent watcher. “I’ll take you t’go see him, no problem! Least I can do, since my roommate hurt your feelin’s.” She patted his hand in exaggerated sympathy and Edward couldn’t help but laugh. Harleen was delightful, and he made a note to continue making her acquaintance in future loops, not just because she knew Bruce Wayne.

“It’s true, and here I only had the one left.” He lamented. 

Harleen’s laugh was unrestrained and full of joy. She didn’t care how it sounded, she just cared that something made her laugh. Much like Jonny’s, it wasn’t pretty, but that was what made it nice. It fit her. Her laughter was given freely just as her posture was loose and her pigtails bounced as she walked. Edward had the distinct impression that as genuine and open as she seemed, part of it was defiant. As if she were daring someone to try and get in her way simply because she knew they couldn’t. She seemed the exact opposite of her roommate. Jonny was stiff as a scarecrow behind them, a tense and quiet watcher waiting to scare off any perceived threat. Edward had to wonder how they hadn’t killed each other yet.

They had to drop by his dorm so he could change his clothes and grab his cane, but other than that they could head straight to Wayne Manor. He felt safer walking around with two people, even if one of them seemed to want to kill Edward himself. He’d have to get in line. It was a nice day, and it wasn’t far from the prestigious school, so they walked and chatted as they did so. Harley, as she told him to call her, even managed to wrangle a proper introduction and some conversation out of Jonathan. Edward thought that name suited him far more than Jonny. That was fine, because Jonathan said he preferred his full name. Edward learned they were both studying psychology, planning to become psychiatrists. They were roomed together due to an error in paperwork. In their very first year, neither had been sure how to go about correcting it. Then they just didn’t want to. They were friends, and colleagues, and very few people would put up with how much of a disaster they both let their living spaces become. So they stuck with each other.

Though apparently Harley spent more time in her girlfriend's dorm lately, giving Jonathan a room to himself.

Jonathan seemed to relax the more they walked and talked, which seemed to delight Harley. He had a strange but lovely sense of humor. Dry, sarcastic, and more than a little morbid. He was smart and he met any witty barbs Edward shot his way without issue. Harley was more cheerful, more the type for puns and humorous observation, but she was just as smart if not smarter than Jonathan. To his own surprise, Edward found he enjoyed them both immensely. When was the last time anyone had been able to keep up with him? Had anyone ever, really?

Edward found himself disappointed when they reached Bruce Wayne’s front door, because that meant his time with them was ending. But there would be other loops, he reminded himself. Probably. Not that he’d have time to really spend time with them while trying to fix whatever was happening. While he was ruminating, Harley rang the bell, and it wasn’t long before an old man in a suit opened the door.

“Heya, Allie!” She greeted cheerfully, waving to the butler unnecessarily.

“Ms. Quinzel.” The british butler greeted in a practiced, polite tone. “And friends. Is Master Bruce expecting you?” He led them inside despite the question, clearly not intending to stop them regardless. Exactly how well did Harley know Bruce Wayne?

“Nope! It’s a surprise.” The butler allowed himself a polite chuckle, then excused himself to alert the master of the household to the presence of his guests.

Wayne Manor was magnificent. Even just the main foyer was extravagant. Wealth was soaked into every inch of the place, from the fancy staircase to the expensive antiques on display. Edward hated it.

It wasn’t long before Bruce Wayne appeared to greet them. He looked just as good in person as he did on television, much to Edward’s chagrin. He led them into a sitting room and shortly afterwards the butler, who Bruce referred to as Alfred, brought them tea and coffee. It was everything Edward wanted from life. He drowned his coffee in milk and sugar, but Jonathan took his black. Somehow, it still wasn’t as bitter as Edward. Harley opted for tea. Apparently too much caffein made her feel badly.

“I was told,” Edward started, when asked what he needed. Bruce Wayne was strangely open to helping a total stranger. He seemed genuinely nice. It was awful. “That you knew someone who dealt in the… unnatural.”

“The unnatural?” All three of his new companions asked at once. Harley sounded excited, Bruce sounded uncertain, and Jonathan was very clearly judging him. Edward scowled at his coffee.

“Unfortunately, yes. Unnatural. Supernatural. Paranormal.” He sighed harshly, not appreciating the scrutinizing looks he was getting. “I’ve run into a… problem, and I was told he could help.” His explanation didn’t seem to assuage Bruce’s concerns. If anything, it made his frown deepen. But the millionaire turned to his butler anyway.

“Alfred, is John still around?”

“He’ll be in the country for another month, sir.”

“Right.” Bruce sighed, standing and moving to a stand off to the side of the room. He dug around in it, pulling out a small paper square. A business card. “The address he gave me is definitely a fake, and if it wasn’t then he’ll be long gone by now. This is his number, though.”

Edward read the card that was handed to him, Harley and Jon on either side of him reading over his shoulder.

 _John Constantine_  
_Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts_  
_(404) 248 - 7182_

Harley whistled, low and impressed.

“This guy’s the real deal?” She took the card from Edward, looking at it more closely.

“He is.” Bruce assured almost solemnly. “I can’t promise he’ll be any help, but don’t be put off too much by his attitude. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Like what?” Jonathan spoke for the first time since they’d entered the manor, aside from his incredulity regarding the subject matter. Bruce sighed and pressed a hand to his eyes as if just talking about John Constantine was exhausting.

“Rude, cavalier, flirtatious even in inappropriate situations- _especially_ in inappropriate situations- impatient, reckless-”

“Not his biggest fan, huh?” Edward scoffed, but Bruce just looked at him flatly and replied very plainly and matter-of-fact.

“He’s one of my closest friends. Listen,” Bruce was talking to Edward, but glancing at Harley. “Whatever’s going on, are you in danger?”

“I am,” Edward admitted. “But just me.” Bruce didn’t look any less concerned. He just looked exclusively concerned for Edward now.

“Then I hope he can help you. Really, I do, and if you need anything else- Well, Harley has my number.” He smiled, small but kind, and Edward knew that he really meant it. He would love to help if he could.

Edward was more certain than ever that he absolutely despised Bruce Wayne.

\------

The sun was setting by time they got back to campus. Edward didn’t have enough time left in the day to finish this. The number was committed to memory the moment he’d read it, and so now he just had to kill the last hour or so before he’d be killed himself. He’d thought Harley and Jon would ditch him once they got back. Their charity work was done, after all. But they seemed to… want to keep spending time with him? It was baffling. 

“Eddie,” Harley asked softly as they sat at a table back on campus. “You said you’re in danger. What’s going on?” He didn’t answer for a moment. Didn’t even look at them. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t remember any of this. They wouldn’t even remember who he was.

“I’m going to die tonight.” They both sat straight up at that, staring at him with mixed emotions. Harley looked horrified and concerned. Jon looked confused and curious.

“And this guy can help save you?” Harley tapped the card on the table urgently. Edward nodded, and she pushed the card at him, insistent. “Then you have to call him! Now!”

“No.” Edward sighed, looking at the card impassively. “No, I’ll just do it in the morning.”

“Good luck doing that dead.” Jon drawled, sounding almost bored. But his eyes weren’t bored. His eyes were watching Edward closely, too closely to hide his interest in the situation. They were so bright. Ed couldn't stop looking at them.

“That’s why you need supernatural help.” Harley realized out loud. The combination of her intellect mixed with her open mind led her right to a seemingly correct assumption as to what was going on.

“You die, then you come back.” Jon added, following Harley’s line of logic and exchanging a loaded look with her. Edward couldn’t tell what they were communicating with each other.

“I die, then I go back.” Edward corrected. “I’ve lived this day four times now. So far I’ve been stabbed, strangled, and crushed to death. Then I start all over and do it again.”

“That’s awful.” Harley sounded so sad for him. She had so much empathy, so much heart. Edward was going to miss her. God, it sounded like she’d be gone forever. She would still exist, she would still be there in other loops. But she wouldn’t be this Harley, exactly. She wouldn’t have shared this day with him. Neither of them would have.

“Have we done this before, then?” Jon asked, and Edward smiled at him almost sadly.

“No. This is the first loop where we’ve spent any time together. I had fun.” He admitted, because none of this would stay. He could admit how he really felt if no one was going to remember it. Jon seemed to think the same, as he replied:

“So did I.”

They locked eyes for another moment while Harley gazed at the business card as if it held answers within itself. Then, because he was going to die and everything would disappear, Edward gently put a hand on Jonathan’s face and kissed his cheek. Jonathan didn’t move, but he did speak as Edward pulled away, lingering with just an inch between them.

“...This won’t have happened?” He asked with a quiet uncertainty.

“Not really, no.” Edward whispered in return.

Edward was about to explain that he would remember but was cut off when, satisfied with his answer, Jon turned his head and met Edward’s lips with his own. It was a small kiss with nothing behind it but tentative curiosity, but it was nice. They’d have kept going if it wouldn’t be rude to Harley, though she didn’t seem to be paying them much mind. Darkness was settling over campus, and Harley’s eyes were on something past them.

“Guys.” She started, standing from the table. “There’s-” She was cut off as a shot rang through the air, and a scream followed soon after. Harley was on the ground, clutching her side and bleeding onto the grass. The two men stood, but more shots rang out. Jon fell next, a heap of tangled limbs and blood. Edward didn’t even look at his attacker. He just looked at his two… friends. Could he call them friends? It didn’t matter now. They were dead or dying and wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning. Edward didn’t look away from either of them, even as more shots rang out and pain exploded in his lower back. He fell beside the other two, finally looking up in time to see a gun pointed at his face. He was bleeding badly and would likely have dropped dead in less than an hour, but it didn’t matter. There was another shot. 

The world exploded. 

Then everything went dark.

Edward woke up again, put on his pants and hurried back to his dorm all without acknowledging Jon. He told his roommates that he was fine and they should go enjoy their day, hurrying them out the door. As soon as they were gone, he took out his phone and called John Constantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Harley is characterized alright. It's my first time writing her, and it's an AU where she isn't a criminal and still wants to become a doctor and help people. Comments, thoughts, and kudos are what keep this going and thank you to everyone who has left them so far. You're the real MVP's c:


	5. Every Man Must Do Two Things Alone; He Must Do His Own Believing and His Own Dying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As John spoke, Edward could feel his options become fewer. There had to be a way to think around this. He could think around anything! Couldn’t he?
> 
> Couldn’t he?

John Constantine looked exactly how Edward had expected, given what he’d been told about the man. Handsome yet haggard, visibly exhausted in a way that would never be solved by sleep, yet somehow still walking around with a swagger like he owned the place. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey, though he didn’t seem drunk when he joined Edward in the small food establishment off-campus. The smell probably clung to his coat. It certainly looked filthy enough.

The establishment was nice. The walls were mainly windows, letting in natural light and a view of the world around the building. It was a place people went to sip coffee and complain about the paper due tomorrow that they hadn’t started yet. It was cute. Constantine stuck out noticeably, and neither of them had ordered any food. Constantine was just frowning at nothing, deep in thought. Edward watched him. The look on his face didn’t make him feel very hopeful.

“Time-altering magic is nasty business.” John sighed, finally speaking. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, a seemingly automatic movement, but he put it out as soon as the person behind the counter snapped at him to do so. Though, he did grumble about it a little before getting back to the point. “Takes some real know-how to get it right, and even then it’s risky. Whoever did this to you is powerful, and knowledgeable, which means they knew how dangerous their plan was. Which means whatever is motivating them is important enough to risk ruining reality.”

“Now, way I figure it,” Jon continued, shifting in his seat. He seemed twitchy. Probably because he couldn’t smoke. “There could be two likely scenarios for this.”

“One of them being someone hates me enough to want to see me die over and over, in different and painful ways, possibly killing me themselves or watching as someone else does it. Additionally, their hatred for me must be strong enough to meddle in dangerous magic.” Edward supplied, not willing to be told something he already knew like he was some sort of idiot.

“Right. Or, and this is much less likely,” Constantine looked him over, making the insult clear as he spoke. “Someone actually likes you enough to risk this sort of magic, because they know someone is out to kill you and they’re trying to save you.” Now, that hadn’t occurred to Edward. He dismissed the idea out of hand.

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. But I can tell you this, mate. This idn’t the universe havin’ a go at you, right? There’s no big lesson you need to learn or realization you need to have. The universe don’t give a bleedin’ goddamn if you’re the biggest arsehole on this side of the hemisphere. This is a person taking matters into their own hands.”

“So how do I stop the magic?” Edward was trying to be patient, but he really needed to just get to the point. The light coming through the windows of the establishment was bright orange, and about an hour after sunset he’d be dead.

“Either the caster decides enough is enough, or you kill the caster, and considering the effort a spell like this takes…” He chuckled, as if Edward’s plight was funny to him. Then he sighed, shook his head. “Well. Not much chance of the first one.” He was smirking. Edward wanted to punch him.

“So I find out who’s killing me, and either I kill them and end the spell, or get them to lead me to whoever’s doing it.” Ed said it like it was easy, and that just made John shake his head.

“Good bloody luck with that,” the detective scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Someone with this kind of magic won’t be easy to kill.”

“Is there a way to… counter it? Magic, I mean.” The question was awkward. Edward wasn’t used to not being the expert on something. He knew next to nothing about this and he hated it.

“With your own magic, of which you have none, and if you face off against them and fail then they can end the spell and kill you for good before you get the chance to try again.” As John spoke, Edward could feel his options become fewer. There had to be a way to think around this. He could think around anything! Couldn’t he?

Couldn’t he?

He was silent after that, and he could feel John watching him carefully. Analysing him. The occultist opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a commotion outside. Both men turned to look out the window, only to see a large vehicle speeding towards the shop. There was only a moment, wherein they both swore loudly, and then everything was pain and noise. The car crashed through the large windows of the establishment and directly into their table. Edward was hit dead-on, being knocked across the room and feeling everything in his torso break to pieces. When he finally skid to a stop on the cold floor, he was dazed and motionless. His body twitched painfully, caught between trying to cough up the blood filling his lungs and trying not to move due to the agony he found himself in. His face was wet but he couldn’t tell if it was with tears or blood or both. Glass was everywhere. On the floor and across the tables that were left intact. There was even some in Edward’s face, knocked into him just before the car followed suit. He tried to become more aware of his surroundings. He could hear John speaking urgently near him and was amazed that he’d gotten out of the way.

Maybe there was something to this magic stuff after all.

He forced his eyes open, vision blurred and head swimming. The killer was approaching, limping out of the car and towards him. He saw the bottom of a trench coat as John cut them off, but he couldn’t lift his head to watch the altercation properly. He could hear Constantine speaking in a glib tone, trading sardonic barbs with the attacker, trying to keep him from finishing the job. Edward’s vision went black and his head drooped, laying limp on the glass-strewn tiled floor for a moment before he jerked back to awareness. He knew what dying felt like at this point. He just wished it was faster. 

The majority of your skeleton not being where it should be was a disconcerting feeling, like he was all twisted up inside. Like someone had reached inside of him and braided his bones for fun, wrapping them around each other and disregarding the organs they protected. He could feel the stabbing, sharp pain where some of his ribs were cutting into him. He couldn’t even bear to look at his arm. It was a break where the bone was showing, and he knew that he knew the name of it but his brain wasn’t working at the moment.

Come on then, Edward thought closing his eyes. I think I’m done here.

As if the universe or his body was listening to him, his heart stopped, and Edward Nygma died for the fourth time in one day.

\-----

“Compound fracture!” He gasped the word as he shot up in bed, breathing hard and fast, savoring the feeling of having lungs that were unpunctured and clear of blood. He laughed a little, just bordering between anxious and hysterical. Slowly, Edward turned to Jon, who was staring at him wide-eyed from the desk. Ed ran a hand through his hair and smiled at him. “When you break a bone and it sticks out. It’s called a compound fracture.” He elaborated finally. Jon opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it again, giving Edward the distinct impression of a fish.

Edward swung his legs over the side of the bed, filled with the sort of weighted lightness that could only come around when he got so stressed out and anxious that it went right back around to not caring anymore. It was a peculiar feeling. His stomach was still in knots, he was still terrified and upset about the whole thing, but he just… didn’t have it in him to care about those feelings or the cause of them. Jon was still staring at the place where Edward had been, even after his guest got up and pulled on his pants. He looked so baffled, he even had his head tilted a little. It was almost cute.

“Earth to Jonathan?” That seemed to snap him out of it, and he turned that confused expression to Edward, brow furrowed and mouth set in a deep frown.

“I never told you my name.” He pointed out, deeply suspicious. Edward just straightened out his hair as best he could and replied calmly.

“You did. We’ve done this before.” Ed approached the door as Jon processed that.

“What do you mean? I’ve never met you before last night.” Edward just smiled back at him from the doorway, as smug as he ever was when he knew something others didn’t.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what I mean.”

There was a moment where Jon simply glared at him, seeming to take the invitation as a challenge. He stood up, and very deliberately pulled a box out from under his bed. There was a gun inside. Edward’s heart stopped and he died again.

...Well, that’s what it felt like anyway.

“Um-”

“Relax.” Jon sounded downright bored with his reaction, checking over his gun, making sure the safety was on, and holstering it on his person, under his shirt. “I’m licensed. I don’t know you, and you are extremely suspicious.” He stood, approaching Edward, who never looked away from Jon’s eyes even as the taller man loomed over him. Usually eye contact was hard for him, but with Jon he found it more difficult to pull his eyes away. “I’ll go with you, but not without a way to defend myself.” Then he walked out past Edward, who closed the door quickly.

“Holy shit, Jonny, what are you doin’ out? And with another person!” Harley hurried over to them from up the hall, smiling widely. 

“Hello, Harley.” Edward and Jon greeted at the same time, and both Jon and Harley looked at Ed with nervous astonishment. “I’m Edward, and we’ve done this before. Come with me. I’ll prove it.” Edward was sure they would follow. They were both naturally curious people, that was easy enough to tell, and they couldn’t just let a mystery stand. He did hear Harley whisper behind him, however:

“You brought your gun right?” She hissed out of the side of her mouth to Jon. Jon didn’t bother. He answered her directly and perfectly audibly.

“Yes, Harley. I brought my gun.” Edward couldn’t help but snicker at them.

He made sure they were close by as they all exited the building. Walking, he pointed out each event that would occur.

“He’s about to walk into her.” He pointed at the oblivious young man hiding behind his cellphone, the three of them watching as he passed them. “He’ll drop his phone, the screen will shatter, and her coffee will get in it.” Just after he said that, it all happened.

“You could have just guessed that through observation.” Jon accused skeptically. Edward just smiled sweetly.

“Harley?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Duck.” He stooped as he said that, pulling Harley down too. Something whizzed past them and struck Jon, though he was so tall it only hit his shoulder. Edward straightened up, back towards where the frisbie had come from. “And now a woman is running up behind me to collect the frisbie.” She did so, but Jon still did not look impressed.

“That still could have been- You could have just looked around and saw it coming at us.” His accusation just made Edward scowl.

“If we keep walking down the pathway towards my building, we will run into a girl with her arms so full of books she won’t be able to see us over them. They will drop everywhere if we don’t get out of her way.” He glared, meeting Jon’s challenge evenly. Jon’s eyes narrowed, and Harley looked distinctly uncertain.

“Well, let's go see then.” The doubt was clear in Jon’s voice as the three of them continued down the pathway. Just as Edward told them, a young woman was hurrying straight towards them. They split apart to get out of her way, coming back together to watch her go, and there was no doubt her things would have scattered everywhere if they hadn’t gone.

There was a moment of silence.

“...We’re on a college campus, it’s not hard to guess that-”

“Jon.” Harley and Edward called him out in sync, exasperated. The taller man crossed his arms and frowned at at the girls retreating back. Harley sighed, looking more than a little freaked out.

“Just… What are you tellin’ us here?” She asked. “That you can see the future?”

“Not quite.” Ed sighed, starting to move them towards one of the tables around campus. He sat them down and explained everything. The time loop, the four deaths, how they had helped him meet Bruce, how he’d met up with John Constantine. He told them what John had told him, and they listened with in rapt silence. There was pause when Edward was done, during which the two roommates shared a long look, coming to some sort on consensus.

“So…” Harley started slowly. “What… exactly do you need us to do?”

“I need you to help me find my killer-”

“Alright, easy enough-”

“And help me kill whoever it is.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected. Horror, maybe? Refusal? Scolding? A lecture on why killing was wrong and how he'd be no better than his own killer? He didn't know. But he certainly didn’t expect a thin, cold smile to spread across Jon’s face. He also didn’t expect the equally icy laughter that followed. It started small, just a little chuckle, growing until it could only be described as something like quiet cackling. Edward watched them, finding their reactions distinctly disconcerting. While Jon apparently found it hilarious, Harley just pulled a pack of gum from her pocket and popped a piece in her mouth. She chewed, blew a bubble, and she and Jon shared a brief look.

Jon was still smiling that terrifying smile. Harley seemed disturbingly blase. The whole thing was surreal, especially when Harley looked back at Edward and popped her bubblegum again.

“Yeah, sure” She told him finally, shrugging a shoulder like it was no big deal. Then she smiled at him and reasserted her statement with a new vigor. “Hell yeah. We can do that.”

Edward was getting the distinct impression that it wouldn’t be the first time.


	6. Death Is a Law, Not a Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward looked out the window at the sun moving in the sky and knew he had to speed this up.
> 
> “Say what you wanted to say.” He ordered flatly, not bothering to look away from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading, please note that Harvey is making a personal choice for himself based on what he's comfortable with. This isn't me trying to say something about people with identity disorders or other mental illnesses. This is just how he feels about it right now.
> 
> I think we might be approaching the end soon, though I make no promises. As always, comments and kudos are deeply appreciated and help me push myself to keep going.

“This is… a long list.” Harley almost sounded impressed as she read down the list Edward had written of all the people who might want him dead. The three of them were at a table in the library, speaking quietly and looking over the pages of paper spread across the table. “Wait, why are your _parents_ on this-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Edward cut her off quickly, clearing his throat. “I doubt they’d have the cunning to set all this up anyway, or that they’d believe me to be worth the effort. I just… wanted to cover all my bases.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged. “Still, you piss off an awful lot of people…” She sighed as as she tried to sift through the five pages full of names of people that might want to kill Edward Nygma.

“People just don’t like it when someone is smarter than them.” Came the defensive explanation. Jonathan scoffed, and said the first actual sentence since his frightening laughter.

“And I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

“I don’t care. Now, this… ‘Harvey Dent’ is at the top of your list. What did you do to him?

“Wait, do you not know who he is?” Edward had to ask first. Harvey wasn’t just well known on campus, he was well-known in the city itself. Everyone loved Harvey Dent and Harvey Dent loved everyone, or so he claimed. Those close to him saw a darker side, occasionally. But he still had a good heart. Edward hated it. Jon just stared at him blankly instead of answering, so Harley did it for him.

“Jonny doesn’t really… know a whole lotta people.”

“By choice, I assure you. I am not unobservant.”

“...Right.” Edward sighed, rubbing his eyes. His head was pounding. His body felt worse and worse the more he died and came back. The implications of that were frightening, but he already knew he had to put a stop to it all. It didn’t change anything. “He’s… my ex, but we never dated.”

“That makes perfect sense.” Jon replied dryly.

“You rejected him and he didn’t take it well?” Harley guessed, tone laced with a sympathy that did not register in even an inch of Jonathan’s being. Edward dropped his hands back onto the table and sighed, shaking his head.

“...No. No, loathed as I am to admit it…” Edward took a deep breath, closing his eyes and bracing himself for something that was so fundamentally against his very nature: Talking about things that upset him.“We were sleeping together. Just casual at first, then it seemed more… emotional, and we were spending more time together outside of it. He was… really nice to me, so I thought…” His lips pressed into a thin line and his fingers twisted around each other restlessly. “I asked if he wanted to go steady, and he verbally ripped me to shreds.”

“Jesus.” Harley whispered as Jonathan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“We really don’t need to know-”

“Since then he keeps following me, showing up wherever I am, asking after me all the time… He keeps trying to talk to me, but I honestly don’t care to hear anything he has to say.” That caused Jon to hum in thought and lean forward, eyes narrowing as he observed Edward’s body language.

“Maybe you should.” He said finally.

“No.”

“Jonny has a point, Eddie.” Harley popped a bubble with her gum before continuing. “If he’s at the top of the list, whatever he has to say might be real tellin’ of whether he should actually be on the list at all.”

“I don’t want to be alone with him.” Edward countered.

“So you won’t be!” She offered the solution as if it were simple. “We’ll hide nearby ‘n listen in, and if he tries anything then we fuck’im up!” The way Harley said that was so cheerful, it was as if she wanted that to happen. Edward did rather like the idea of someone who wronged him getting beaten to death…

“Alright.” He agreed after a moment. “Okay. I’ll call him and ask him to meet me in my dorm. You two can hide in the closet.”

“Aw, what?” Harley drew out the word in a pouty whine. “But we spent so much time just coming _out_ of the closet!” There was silence as both men stared at her. She crossed her arms and pouted more effectively. “Oh c’mon, that was funny!”

“Low hanging fruit, Harleen.” Jon sounded almost as if he were seriously scolding her, then he turned back to Edward. “Call him.”

And so he did.

Harvey was excited, or at least sounded like he was. He actually thanked Edward for agreeing to talk to him and showed up at his dorm in record time, looking alarmingly nervous despite his smile. Edward let him in, and they stood in silence for a good minute before Edward offered him a seat in one of the girls chairs. Then more silence as they sat down. Neither knew what to say. Edward looked out the window at the sun moving in the sky and knew he had to speed this up.

“Say what you wanted to say.” He ordered flatly, not bothering to look away from the window.

“...Right.” Came the eventual reply, before Harvey cleared his throat and continued. “I… I wanted to… apologize.”

“Mhm.” Edward hummed, feigning boredom.

“I was needlessly cruel in the way I spoke to you, when- Well, I doubt I need to specify. I… You know I have… my moods. You know that. That’s not an excuse, but at the time…” Edward saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat out of the corner of his eye. “At the time, part of my brain was telling me that… Being mean would be for the best. Cut you deeply and cut things off completely. I knew how to hurt you and I thought if I made you hate me, then things would be… easier.” Harvey took a breath and let it out slowly. “Not an hour after you left, I realized how irrational that was. I realized I shouldn’t have betrayed your trust that way. I should have explained myself properly.”

He paused for long enough that Edward glanced at him. Harvey was looking at him with a nervous gleam in his eyes that Edward had never seen before. Harvey was always so sure. Always so confident. He looked vulnerable now. A part of Edward knew how hard that must have been for him, but a more prominent part revelled in it. He just looked at Harvey expectantly, eyes tired and body aching. Eventually, the other man got the message.

“... The real reason I rejected you isn’t because I didn’t… want you. I did. I still do. But…” Every fibre of Edward’s being was screaming at him to cut Harvey off. He didn’t want to hear this again. He didn’t want to be told why he wasn’t good enough. “I’m not well.” Harvey said finally, voice strained and eyes dropping to a point on the floor. His posture was slumped, defeated, his elbows on his knees. He usually sat so tall and proud. Edward was stunned into silence for a moment.

“You’re sick?” He didn’t look sick, aside from how tired he seemed.

“Yes, but… not the way you might think. Edward, my ‘mood swings,’ the way I get sometimes… There’s more going on than I let on and it… that’s not… It’s…” He sighed harshly, dropping his head into his hands. “...I’m not well. I’m not. I’m very mentally ill, Edward, and I’m getting help but… At this point, I’m just…” He took another breath, running his hands down his face as he looked up again. “A real relationship means taking care of each other. It means being there for each other. It doesn’t mean you walking on eggshells every time you talk to me. I can’t get into a relationship with you when the way I treat you depends so heavily on something I don’t have a handle on yet. I’m scared, Edward. I’m scared of this, I’m scared of myself, and I am in… no fit state to take care of anyone right now.”

“...You said you’re getting help?” Edward asked softly, after a long moment of Harvey waiting anxiously for a response.

“I am. I’m learning some coping mechanisms and they’ve started me on some medication. It’s too early to know if it’s doing much yet. Listen,” Harvey started. “I’m not saying mentally ill people can’t be in healthy relationships. They absolutely can. But me, personally? I don’t feel like it’s something I should be doing right now. It’s not something I’m comfortable trying. Not until I have a better idea of what’s going on with me and how to handle it.”

“Then why even bother talking to me?” There was no bitterness left. No anger, no resentment. Just exhaustion. Harvey looked at him with a small, sad smile.

“Like I said, I was needlessly cruel. You didn’t deserve that.” Edward wasn’t sure he agreed.

“...Well, I won’t deny this helped a little. I appreciate the closure, Harvey.” Being polite was painful. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be petty and bitter. Instead, Edward stood and gestured at the door. “Now… Please leave. I need some time to myself.”

“Of course.” Harvey stood as well, and as he approached there was a moment where Edward thought he was going to kiss him. Time slowed down, and Edward had no idea whether he wanted to allow it or not. He’d enjoyed kissing Harvey, before. But Edward was extremely picky about who he touched and who was allowed to touch him in turn. Harvey had lost that right. But Harvey just walked past him to the door, and then he was gone.

There was a moment of silence before the clamour in the closet started up. There were curses and banging as the two people inside tried to get out. Edward was sure he heard something about ‘ridiculous noodle legs’ and 'knife elbows' just before the doors flew open and Harley went sprawling onto the floor. She looked up with a smile and a small wave.

“Heeeey, Eddie.” She pulled herself off the floor as Jon gingerly stepped out of the closet, closing it behind himself. “So, we ain’t killin’ him?”

“No.” Was all he said in reply, loathed as he was to do so.

“Shame.” Jon commented dryly, eyes on the door. “He said he’s afraid of himself. I’d like to see how far that goes.”

“Hey, Jon?” Edward started innocently enough. Jon looked at him in question as he approached, and tensed when Edward put his hands on his shoulders. He looked deep into the frozen blue-grey of Jon’s eyes and said very simply: “You are the most deeply unnerving person I have ever met.”

“You are not the first to tell me that.” Jon told him flatly, but Edward just grinned.

“Bet I’m the first to say it as a compliment though.” He stepped back, taking his hands off of Jon and looking to Harley as the other man just stared at him in confusion. Harley, however, was looking at the door.

“...I think there might be an easier way to do this than interviewing every single person on your five page hate-list.”

The three of them look at each other, realizing they all thought of the same thing at the same time. No one said anything until Edward sighed wearily and complained:

“I _hate_ being bait.”


	7. The Fear of Death Is the Most Unjustified of All Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward was getting antsy. He was usually dead by now. What if he survived until the next day only to be killed again? Would he stay dead for good? Would he go back two days or to the beginning of that day? He was a genius but all this time foolishness was getting out of hand.

Edward thought the trap was a bit obvious.

There was no way the killer would fall for it, would they? The isolated area on campus, their target sitting alone at a table seemingly distracted by reading. The darkness encasing the area and providing a shroud of discretion for anyone who might wish to harm the lonesome bookworm. It was too easy. So obviously a trap.

Apparently not, because it wasn’t long after dark when someone in a hoodie began to approach from behind him, wearing a black mask and carrying a knife that was almost the size of Edward’s forearm. Edward forced himself not to look, not to react. He had to let this happen. He just had to be patient.

The killer raised their arm to bring the knife down, aiming to lodge it in Edward’s spine, but just as they began to swing it downwards a battle cry broke the silent stillness of the night air. The killer froze and looked around just in time to be tackled to the ground by an enthusiastically violent blonde. Jon ran up behind her, tossing her a sturdy baseball bat as the killer lay stunned, pinned beneath her slight frame. It took only a moment for her to grip the bat and bring it down on the masked villains head.

There was no movement.

Harley raised her bat into the air with both hands and let out a whoop of victory.

“That was alarmingly easy.” Edward commented, leaving his book open on the table and approaching his two friends, standing above the unconscious would-be killer. He knelt down beside the unconscious body as Harley stood, and dislodged the mask from where it was set firmly on the person’s face. Edward dropped the mask in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he curled a hand over his mouth.

“This… this is…” He wavered, eyes wide as he looked down at the person responsible for all the pain he’d gone through. Then he dropped his hand, shoulders slumping in defeat as he admitted: “Yeah, I have no idea who this is.”

“A paid killer then. Employed by whoever is really tugging the strings.” Jonathan guessed.

“I think I know this guy…” Harley knelt back down, moving the man’s face back and forth as she thought. “Yeah… Yeah, my ex used to do some jobs with him sometimes! We always just called him Dick, but I think his name was… Richard. Richard Sionis!”

“Isn’t he a huge deal in the criminal scene? Why would he bother with something like this?” Edward ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

“There must be somethin’ in this for him, business-wise.” Harley stood again, only for both her and Jon to drop to the ground when a shot rang out. “What the hell?!”

“There’s two of them?!” Jonathan demanded answers, looking at Ed to provide them. Ed just looked back at him with equal alarm.

“I don’t know! I thought it was only one!” Edward looked around frantically, barely ducking down in time to avoid another shot. “It’s a long-range weapon. Sniper. The only place with a clear view is the clocktower in the middle of campus.” Edward spoke quickly, and Harley immediately pulled out her phone.

“Red spends a lotta time just past there, in the school gardens. I’ll see what she can do.”

“You’re going to put your girlfriend up against a likely trained killer?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow, but Harley just grinned as she sent the text.

“You ain’t never seen Red when she’s angry.”

Edward was getting antsy. He was usually dead by now. What if he survived until the next day only to be killed again? Would he stay dead for good? Would he go back two days or to the beginning of that day? He was a genius but all this time foolishness was getting out of hand.

“We need questions answered. We need one of them conscious.” Edward bemoaned, glaring down at the concussed criminal lying just beside him.

Then that criminal’s eyes popped open.

There was no time to react before there was a knife in his shoulder. He fell back, grasping the wound and yelling in pain. Sionis was on him in a moment, stab-happy and grinning despite the rage shining in his eyes. Apparently he didn’t take kindly to being smacked around. Ed could hear Jon and Harley yelling, could see two pairs of hands trying to drag Sionis off of him, but the criminal was much larger than all three of them.

Edward had been stabbed a good ten times before Harley grabbed her bat and started beating on Sionis again. Hit after hit, she drove him off of Edward and back, away, set on beating the man to death for hurting her friend.

Edward saw none of this. He only a ridiculous mess of dark hair blending in with the night sky, and bright eyes shining with something like fear. He could feel a cold hand on his cheek, which he really didn’t need. He was feeling cold enough as it was.

“Edward? Edward, stay with me.” There was a painful pressure against his wounds, causing him to cry out. “I know. I know it hurts, but I need to staunch the bleeding and I need you to stay awake. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?” Jon’s voice was clear and even, but still barely broke through the haze of agony. Edward struggled to breathe. The rise and fall of his chest hurt too much.

“It’s fine-” He managed. “It’s fine. I’ll- I’ll just come back. Just let me die. We- We can try again next- next loop.”

Jon’s expression hardened, and Edward knew he wanted to argue. But hesitantly, Jon took his hands away, allowing the blood to flow. Edward could still hear Harley in the background, wailing on whatever was left of Sionis.

“We kissed, you know.” Edward admitted weakly. “In one of the first loops. You asked if it would matter, if any of it would stay. I said no. You kissed me before I could elaborate that I would still remember.”

“I very likely assumed as much.” He couldn’t tell if Jon was speaking more softly than usual or if he just couldn’t hear as well. The hand on his cheek ran through his hair, fingers gentle against his scalp, and Edward closed his eyes as he tried to focus on that instead of the pain and the warmth of his own blood against the cold clamminess of his skin. “I probably just didn’t care. In fact, for your benefit…”

There was a gentle pressure against his lips, and Edward wished he had the energy to chase after it when it disappeared.

“Think of it as motivation,” Jon whispered in his ear. “If you can solve this and fix it, perhaps you could pursue this further.”

“Hold me.” Edward barely managed to speak the words, and he forced his eyes open to find Jon smiling sadly.

“Edward,” he looked down to where Edward was laid in his lap, wrapped in his arms as he bled out. “I already am.”

Edward couldn’t feel it.

He couldn’t feel anything.

And then he was dead.

Again.

And when he woke up, his face was streaked with tears.

\-----

The plan was different, this time. After explanations and convincing, Edward brought the two psychologists to the clocktower with the intention of intercepting and questioning the sniper. The clocktower wasn’t exactly the cleanest place on campus. It was dusty and the home to mice, spiders, and a nest of crows. The crows cawed at them as they climbed the stairs to the top of the tower, and Edward felt Jon tense beside him.

“Not a fan of heights?” He asked quietly. Jon didn’t look at him.

“Crows.”

“What’d crows ever do to you?” He didn’t expect the chilling glare he received in response, Jon’s eyes seemingly glowing in the dim light of the tower. After a moment, he turned his eyes back forward. Edward still watched him as he spoke.

“You don’t want to know.” Edward opened his mouth to argue, but Jon silenced him sternly. “And if you do want to know, then I don’t want to tell you.”

“...Fair enough.” Edward muttered after a moment.

There was already equipment stashed in the clocktower. Someone had done recon, had scouted out the best spot on campus and set up shop. There weren’t many places to hide, however. The platform behind the clock was bare of all but the snipers equipment. There was a little square cut out of the clock's face, impossible to see from afar.

“Well, that sure took some doin’” Harley commented as she examined the hole. She turned to the gun that was pointing through it, looking over the instrument of death with a thoughtful frown.

“Something to share, Ms Quinzel?” Jonathan crossed his arms, tone betraying how bored he was thus far.

“Yeah Harley, something to share?” All three of them looked up at the newcomer in the tower. A man stepped forward, dressed in all black, with silenced guns strapped to his wrist.

“Oh my god!” Harley just about squealed. “Lawton, what the hell’re you doin’ here?!” She exclaimed, going right up to the guy.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Getting paid to kill people. Him, specifically.” The man pointed at Edward, who tensed, eyeing the wrist-guns warily. “Didn’t know he was a friend of yours.”

“What? Oh yeah, me n Eddie go way back!” Harley assured. “But why’d you wanna kill a regular ol’ joe like him? Hey Eddie, you into some back-alley shit you ain’t told us about?” She turned to him, posture calm and smile wide, but shooting a look that told him to play along.

“No? No, nothing like- Did my parents hire you?” He tried, but Floyd Lawton just scoffed.

“Are your parents millionaires?”

“No.”

“Then they wouldn’t be able to foot the bill, kid.” The assassin sighed, turning back to Harley. “Look, I’m sorry Harley, but I have a job to do.”

“Oh c’mon, you’re in high demand! You can find another job, easy!” She pouted for a moment, then smiled smugly, getting closer to the assassin. “Besides, you owe me, Lawton. I saved your life.”

“Oh come on, that was-”

“You even _said_ you owe me!” She insisted, and the hitman looked increasingly uneasy.

“... I know. I know I owe you, but listen, the person who hired me…”

“If you tell us who hired you, we can stop them directly. There will be no trouble for you.” Jon tried, and there was a moment of silence before Floyd started laughing. There was no humor in it.

“Are you fucking serious right now? Three dumbass kids wasting their time at Gotham University- No offense Harley-”

“None taken!”

“Do you have any idea what you’re up against?” He patronized. Edward was fuming, and he could feel Jonathan bristling beside him. 

“We would if you’d tell us.” He managed through gritted teeth. There was a pause as Floyd thought about it, then the assassin sighed.

“... You familiar with John Constantine?”

“...I beg your pardon?” Edward spoke as evenly as he could.

“John Constantine. He-”

“I know who he is!” Edward all but screamed, all three of the other people in the clocktower staring at him as if he suddenly had ten heads. “He hired you?!”

“No, no. I don’t even think he knows you. But he’s ridiculously easy to steal from. I dunno exactly what, but the guy who hired me tried to pay Constantine to curse you. He refused, doesn’t do that sort of fucked up shit to random people I guess, so we had someone steal what we needed. A little help from some brat named Klarion- God knows how he managed _that_ \- and suddenly everything is in place and all we need to do is kill you.”

There was a moment after he finished, where Edward seriously considered throwing himself off of the clocktower.

“Klarion.” Jon clarified. “As in Klarion the Witch Boy? As in the immortal, ageless embodiment of chaos?” He turned to Edward, looking almost morbidly amused. “If you need to kill the caster to end the curse, then you are out of luck my friend.”

“He could also end it himself-” Edward started.

“He won’t.” Jon cut him off. “Klarion is chaos. He won’t put a stop to something that encourages the exact thing that he personifies.”

“How do you know about this?!” Edward was getting frustrated. How did so many people know all these things he’d never heard about? Jon just shrugged.

“My research into fear often leads me into the supernatural. I prefer to stick to scientific methods, but the arcane production of fear is not to be overlooked-”

“Forget I fucking asked.” Ed grumbled, rubbing his temples in an attempt to stave off an oncoming migraine. “Then what am I _supposed_ to do?”

“...What if you kill the guy behind all of it?” Harley tried. “Even if he didn’t cast the spell, this witch kid wouldn’t have a need to keep up the curse without him, and wouldn’t he have bigger fish t’fry?”

“Y’know what?” Edward threw his hands up. “Why the fuck not? What else could possibly happen? I’ve already _fucking died!_ ”

“C’mon Eddie, calm down.” Harley attempted to soothe him, but Edward was having none of it.

“Calm down? Have you ever died before, Harley?!”

“Well, no-”

“No? Well, newsflash, it fucking hurts! It hurts in ways you can’t even fucking fathom! It gets to you! You feel it everywhere! In your heart, in your head, in all the organs that shut off, in the veins draining empty, in the bones that snap and the lungs that collapse- You wanna know a _fun fucking fact about me!?_ ” Edward was basically screaming, tears gathering in his eyes. He started pacing around the platform, the assassin and Harley stepping out of his way. Jon was unmoved. “I have _perfect recall_. I remember _everything_. Every time my parents hit me, every nasty word ever spoken to me, every love that didn’t work out, every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done, and I can recall in vivid detail _every time I have fucking died!_ So no, Harley, I will not calm down! I’m-”

Rough hands shoved him hard as he paced near the edge of the platform. His eyes went wide as he fell back, he heard Harley scream his name and heard the assassin curse in surprise. He saw Jon, right there, arms outstretched and face deceivingly neutral. The length of the clocktower flew by as Edward fell headfirst. Story after story went by, and it was the most merciful death he’d died so far.

He was gone the moment he hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon retains no memory from previous loops, so his impression of Edward is new every time. This time around, Eddie rubbed him entirely the wrong way.
> 
> Klarion will not be making an appearance. That would extend the whole damn story another ten chapters. But shout out to the terrible magic boi.
> 
> I really hope this is okay. I had a lot of trouble with this chapter.


	8. Death Is the Wish of Some, the Relief of Many, and the End of All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter.

“This time, please don’t push me off the tower.”

“I make no promises.”

The three were climbing the stairs again, Edward determined to find out who was behind all of his suffering. Jon had no memory of his cold-hearted murder, of course, but didn’t seem particularly bothered when told what had happened.

“If it helps, I currently have no desire to kill you.” Jon assured.

“Yeah, no, that doesn’t help at all.” Edward told him, but Jonathan just shrugged.

“You said the guy is Floyd?” Harley chimed in as they reached the top. “As in Floyd Lawton? Jeez no wonder you’ve died so many times. He don’t fuck around!” She sounded proud of her criminal cohort. Ed supposed she had reason to be.

“No, he certainly does not.” Edward grumbled, as the three settled down to wait.

The interaction with Floyd Lawton was streamlined this time around, since they didn’t need to go over all the information again. They just needed to know who was behind everything.

“Are you familiar with a man named Strange?” Floyd asked.

“Like, he’s named strangely or…” Harley gestured vaguely, eyes narrowed in question. The boys just shook their heads.

“No, no. His name is Dr. Hugo Strange. He’s some big shot science guy who has his fingers in a lot of shady pies.” There was a moment of silence as that information sunk in. Hugo Strange. The man who had made deals with both Richard Sionis and Klarion the Witchboy, the man who had spent enough money to hire Deadshot himself, and who risked extremely dangerous magic. All just to torment Edward Nygma.

“I… have no idea who that is.” Edward admitted, baffled and more than a little frustrated. “I’ve never heard of that man in my life!” He threw his hands up as if in defeat, then gripped his hair, tugging slightly.

“Clearly, he has heard of you.” Jonathan oh-so helpfully mentioned.

“Yes, clearly.” Edward seethed. “How much is he paying?” He demanded, dropping his hands and looking to Floyd with a fiery determination. The hitman just raised a brow.

“More than you have.”

“You don’t know what I have.” He bit the words out through gritted teeth, fists clenched at his side. Floyd sighed in resignation, then named a figure that had Jon choking on air and Harley whistling, impressed. 

“Goddamn, Floyd!” Harley exclaimed, but the assassin just shrugged.

“People will pay a whole lot of money for a little bit of murder.”

“I’ll pay you that and then another half.” Edward declared, stunning everyone else into silence. Floyd fixed him with an unwavering, searching look.

“Up front.”

“Of course.”

“In cash.”

“Done.”

“By sunset.”

Edward just nodded, a tentative smile trying to fight its way to his face. Then he turned to his two friends.

“Wonderful. Now, would one of you be so kind as to push me off this tower.”

Jon rolled up his sleeves, sighing dramatically.

“It’s a damn good thing I didn’t make any promises.” He stepped forward, and Edward grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. It lasted only a moment before he pulled away, grinning at the confusion on Jonathan’s face.

“You know,” he started, letting go of Jonathan and stepping back towards the ledge. “You have the prettiest eyes.”

He took another step back, and died another death.

It was very efficient, really. If only it didn’t leave him feeling so terribly. This loop, he brought Jon and Harley along for moral support rather than any practical use. Getting the cash was child’s play, though absolutely none of it was earned through legal means. Edward’s various illicit online pursuits proved increasingly lucrative, if unexpectedly dull. The three of them turned up to the clocktower with a bag full of money and the need to get all of this done and over with.

“Alright,” Floyd agreed as he finished counting the money. “I’ll take him out.”

“Just a moment.” Edward stopped him, taking a breath to steel himself. “I want to go with you.”

“Listen, kid-”

“No, I need to go with you! I need to know why some asshole I’ve never met went through so much effort to make me miserable!” Edward was insistent, eyes hard and filled with something none of the other people in the room could comprehend, because none of them had ever died. Floyd took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly in a deep sigh before shrugging, as if it just didn’t matter anymore.

“Alright. But if you die again, it’s your own damn fault.” He warned almost sternly as he started down the stairs, expecting the others to follow. They didn’t, at first. Edward turned to the other two, looking almost grim beneath the dark excitement of it all.

“You don’t have to come with me-”

“Oh, shut up.” Harley dismissed his words with a wave. “We’re comin’ Eddie, just try’n stop us.” She smiled, and Edward found it just a bit contagious. Still, he turned to Jon, trying not to be too hopeful. The taller man just shrugged.

“I’m curious to know what all this was about.” That was all he had to say on the matter. Edward nodded, unable to voice how much their help meant to him, how much it kept meaning to him no matter how many loops he went through.

\-------

Floyd’s car wasn’t especially flashy for someone who charged as much as he did, but it was appropriately discrete. Harley called shotgun, sticking the boys in the back as she chatted excitedly with her much quieter old friend. For once, Edward was quiet. His stomach was tied up in knots, and he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything as they made their way to the end of his journey. Jonathan, of course, had no words of comfort for him. They both just sat there, looking out of their respective windows.

“So, I’ve told him to meet me where he was supposed to trade off the money. Told him there were complications, which isn’t technically a lie.” Floyd explained as they approached their destination. “I’ll shoot out his leg, you ask your questions, I kill him, we all go home happy.” He pulled to a stop in front of a seemingly abandoned warehouse. It was exactly the sort of location one would expect illicit activities to take place in. Edward felt nauseous from anxiety.

“I’ll kill him myself.”

He didn’t even realize he’d spoken until he realized everyone in the car had turned to look at him.

“... Listen, he’s killed me multiple times at this point. I think I deserve one.” That earned him nods and shrugs and a muttered ‘yeah, fair enough’ from Harley as they all got out of the car.

“Stay here.” Floyd ordered. “Come in when you hear the shot.” He didn’t look or wait to see if they acknowledged what he said. He just headed for the warehouse, leaving them by the car. There was silence for a moment, and as usual Harley was the one to break it.

“So, Eddie,” she started. “What’ll you be doin’ with tomorrow, if we make it that far?”

A tomorrow. He’d almost forgotten he could have one of those. He laughed shakily, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide how they were trembling.

“Not going to class, I can tell you that much.” 

“Can’t say I blame you much for that.” Harley laughed too, soft and sympathetic. Edward appreciated her levity.

“There was someone,” he started hesitantly. “That I’ve been wanting to ask out, these past few loops. If there’s a tomorrow… I might go through with it.”

Harley opened her mouth to reply, just as a shot rang out.

The three of them sprinted for the warehouse, a sense of urgency carrying them to the worn-down entrance of the building. Edward’s legs ached from the injuries of previous loops, and he struggle to breathe after all of the trauma done to his lungs and throat.

There was an old man on the floor, screaming curses in another language at Floyd, who looked on impassively. He didn’t notice when the other three entered, at first, but his eyes narrowed behind his glasses when he finally saw them approaching.

“Ach. You.” He spit at Edward’s feet in disgust, earning a stern kick from Harley.

“Me.” Edward confirmed dryly, his chest heavy with the weight of what he might learn. “You put an awful lot of effort into fucking with me.” The old man just laughed.

“Oh, no less than you deserve.”

“See, you say that, but I’ve never met you before in my life.” There was a moment of silence as the old man seemed to be trying to figure out if Edward was being serious or not.

“You do not know me?” He asked, incredulous and impatient. Edward just glared, throat feeling too tight to speak. “You lost me millions! You stole from me, from my associates! You took my assets and set my work back by decades! All of my funding is gone thanks to you!”

The old man was panting, either from anger or pain as he bled out on the floor. Edward just frowned at him, trying to remember.

“Must have been one of my jobs.” He muttered, and he was sure if the man wasn’t bleeding out, his face would have turned red.

“You mean to tell me you nearly destroyed everything I have worked for… and it wasn’t even of note to you?!”

“Well,” Ed shrugged. “I’m in high demands. If it was a particularly boring job, then I wouldn’t take much note of it.” To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he couldn’t remember because it was unnotable, or because he was severely traumatized by being killed multiple times. “But now I am going to totally destroy everything you’ve worked for, because I’m going to kill you.”

His entire body aching with previous deaths, his cane did almost nothing to help his legs anymore. But, it would still be an effective weapon… if he didn’t feel so weak he could barely stand. So, instead, he got out his knife. He’d make this quick, then he could go home and sleep. 

He walked up to Hugo Strange, pulled his head back by his hair, and held the knife to his throat.

A shot rang out.

He drew the knife across Strange’s throat quickly, blood spraying as Strange gurgled and fell over when Edward released him. Ed stumbled backwards, dropping his knife to grip the explosion of pain in his abdomen. There was a glint of light from the windows against metal, but it wasn’t his knife. There was a gun on the floor, dropped from the doctors limp hand.

Strange was dead. He was dead, the loop was broken, and he’d gotten the last laugh anyway.

Edward fell back into someone rather than onto the floor. He was lowered carefully, unsure who was holding him, and then he was being hoisted up and carried away quickly. He could hear the urgent voices of those around him, but couldn’t make sense of their words.

The loop was broken, but he was going to die anyway. Again and, perhaps, for the last time.


	9. A Person Has Learned Much Who Has Learned How to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said ‘dinner date.’” Edward complained as Jonathan handed him the paper bag. Fast food wasn’t a favorite for either of them, but it was convenient.

“Alright. Then I’ll take these back to my dorm and give yours to Harley. Hand it over. Though, I didn’t realize you liked hospital food so much.” Jonathan teased, taking his seat next to the hospital bed. Edward was finally well enough to sit up, but still confined to bedrest as his bullet wound and internal damage healed. He held the paper back even closer, all but hissing at the suggestion of giving it up.

“Try it and you lose the hand.”

“So aggressive.” Jonathan huffed, looking around the room as he took his food from the bag. “You know, I never liked hospitals.”

“No one is forcing you to visit me, you know.”

“No, they aren’t.” Was all Jonathan had to say to that, shooting Edward a knowing look which made his companion blush and look away.

“But you’re right. Hospitals are awful.” Edward bemoaned his situation, popping a french fry into his mouth and swallowing before he continued. “So, I didn’t tell you before but… I got my x-rays back.”

“And they showed a bullet wound, I assume.”

“Well, yes. Multiple. A lot of scarring. A lot of bones that had been broken. Extensive trauma that should have killed me.” He didn’t look at Jonathan as he spoke, but felt eyes watching him. “I didn’t tell them that it did kill me.”

“Will the damage alter your quality of life?” Jonathan asked carefully. Edward just shrugged.

“They don’t know yet. Probably. We’ll see.” He tried to seem unbothered, but didn’t quite manage it. “I’ll be out in a week or so regardless, they think.”

“...Can I tell Harley? She’ll ask how you are. She always does.”

“Sure. Hell, I’d tell her myself if she’d visit more.” There was no real anger or resentment in Edward’s voice, but Jonathan gave him an honest answer anyway.

“She says she wants to give us ‘alone time.’” He admitted, tone betraying his amusement. Edward laughed, carefully, the motion causing him a bit of pain. Then he smiled almost softly.

“Can’t say I’m complaining.”

Jonathan met his smile with a slight twitch of his lips. His eyes portrayed how pleased he was to be told things like that, but he never seemed quite able to express that properly. He looked down at his untouched food for a moment before speaking.

“You know, I feel there’s a bit of a disbalance between us.” He admitted. Edward raised an eyebrow, silently bidding he continue. “You said we kissed in other loops.”

“Many times.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Because it was a different you.” Edward explained with mock-patience, causing Jon to roll his eyes.

“But you remember.” He got to his point.

“Yes. Fondly.” Edward grinned, sensing where Jonathan was going.

“I think that’s rather unfair. Don’t you?” Jonathan started to smile, unable to help himself. Edward reached out a hand, taking hold of Jon’s collar and tugging a little, beckoning him closer.

“Absolutely criminal.” He whispered as Jon went willingly, leaning in close and letting himself be kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that! I finally finished something! I think this is the first time I've actually finished a big series, and it's only because people stuck with me through it and motivated me to keep going, so thank you so much! This work is as much yours as it is mine and it wouldn't exist without you.
> 
> I'll be doing another scriddler story, and you can vote for which one you want me to write next here: http://www.easypolls.net/poll.html?p=59ff85b5e4b036a938d52e54


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